


Soulmates

by Max Watson (Max_Motou)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse, BAMF John Watson, Blood, Fighting for life, Homophobia, John in Afghanistan, M/M, Marvel stuff/refences, Purple Vase smashing, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Teenlock AU, The voice in John's head is helpful, becuace John is a fucking nerd like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7058725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Max_Motou/pseuds/Max%20Watson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where everyone learns the name of their soul mate at the age of 18, John always knew he was different. Instead of black, his soulmate's name was in silver. The memory of his 18th birthday is one John will never forget. It was the day he learned his soulmate's name. It was also the he lost his father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soulmates

**Author's Note:**

> Beta Reader: Puddean  
> Artist: Croatian Cameos

# 

 

John considered himself lucky. Lucky to be able to know the name of your soul mate. Ever since he became of age, he would look longingly at the name on his wrist. He loved the elegant writing, the looping L's and cursive I's. He remembered the day he received his name,

He had stayed up all night to see how it would happen, whether it would just appear, or well, he didn't know what to expect.  It _was around midnight when it happened. He was trying to read a book, emphases on trying, when a faint glow began to emanate from his left wrist. John noticed this immediately, he also noticed the warmth that was slowly spreading from his wrist. Forgetting his book in favor for his wrist, John watched the light and the letters it seemed to form. It was as if he was watching his soulmate write his name on his wrist. It seemed to last only a second, but when the light faded, revealing what John already knew, a good ten minutes had passed, almost as if the writer had wanted to write his name perfectly._

_John had suddenly felt tired, and his heart ached, but he didn't know why. He laid his head down on his pillow and looked at his wrist, and fell asleep feeling loved._

 

_**{*}** _

_John woke up the next morning feeling well rested, more so than he had in awhile. He stretched and glanced at the clock and smiled. It was both his 18th birthday, and a Saturday. He had plans to hang out with some of his friends at the movies. John got out of bed and smelled the air, pancakes. A smile on his lips, John glanced down at his wrist and a fondness saturated his eyes. He felt lucky to know his soulmate’s, his other half’s name, but he didn't understand the sadness that pulsed through him when he saw his name. John was also slightly confused that his soulmate was another guy, having always been attracted to chicks, but wrote it off as a thing he’ll find out when he finds him._

_“John!” His mother called from downstairs. The smell of chocolate chip pancakes wafted up to him again and he smiled. He walked over to his closet and dressed for the day, deciding on blue-jeans and his marvel t, and headed down stairs._

_John’s mum already had the table set with two plates with bacon, chocolate chip pancakes, and scrambled eggs. John’s father wanted to take the day, or at least come in later, but the office had called an emergency meeting, so he wasn't there, which didn't bother John at all. His dad had his off days, and his on days; some days he was a tolerable ass, and others he was just a narcissistic asshole who would better assault the pair of them when he didn't get what he wanted right then and there._

_“Morning Mom.” John said sitting down at the mahogany table._

_“Morning hun.” Mum said, turning off the burners and bringing the last of the food to the table._

_“Happy birthday baby.” She said with a fake sniffle. “Look. My baby is all grown up!” She hugged John’s head and held him to her chest. John groaned, but hugged her back, well, hugged her as well as he could with his body one way, his face the other._

_“Mom. Can't breathe!” He faked choked. Mum playfully pushed his head away before grabbing him again and planting a big kiss on his forehead._

 

_“So.” She said, sitting across from John at the table. “What's the plans for today?” she asked, taking a bite of her pancakes. John noticed that she hadn't jumped him to know his soulmate’s name, which was kinda odd, but John just shrugged it off._

_“Well, some friends and I are going to go to the movies. Catch a couple of films.” He took a drink of his orange juice, and glanced around. The house was clean, the kitchen was spotless, the kitchen table loaded with more food than either him or his mother could ever hope to eat by themselves, and Mum hadn't asked about his soulmate._

_**“Guests.”** Said a male voice in his mind. John was so startled he dropped the glass of juice, spilling it all over him._

_“Shit!” He gasped, setting down the now empty glass._

 

_“I’ll clean it up.” HIs mother said with an endearing sigh. “You go get changed.” John nodded and stood leaving the room to head upstairs. Tossing the now dirty clothes, being only able to salvage his boxers, John searched through his wardrobe for something clean to wear, all the while feeling like someone was watching him.  John quickly dressed and headed downstairs in a pair of black jeans and a red Deadpool muscle shirt._

_“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” His mother, and several of his friends shouted when he rounded the corner to the kitchen. Those who didn't say anything had their mouths full of pancakes. John skidded to a halt. The voice had been right, and that freaked him out to no end._

_‘_ And it would continue to freak him out for years to come.’ John thought, looking up into the desert sun.

_John was still talking about Deadpool when he got home that night. His friends were very accepting when they found out that John’s soulmate is male, his mother did to; but she had a very worried look on her face. No one understood why his soulmate’s name wasn't black though. John had an idea, but he didn't want to say it out loud or fear of being made fun of, being pitied, or to be right._

_He had wished his best friend, Max, goodnight, and confirmed that their argument/conversation of the Avengers and the upcoming Civil War movie that they were going to see when it came out._

_“Hey Mum!” John called, locking the  front door behind him. “I’m home!” the house was mostly quiet, he could hear voices coming from his parents bedroom._

_“-Bitch!”_

_“No! I will not allow you to kick him out like you did Harry!”_

_“It’s not right!”_

_“It’s love!” John heard his mother shout, he was right outside the door now. “And if you try to kick him out, I swear to God! I dont care that you are my soulmate! I will divorce your ass so hard and leave it in the streets before you can even say OUT!” She finished. John heard footsteps heading to the door and he quickly moved out of the way to stand on the stairs. The door opened, and that’s really when hell broke lose. He heard the loud smack of skin on skin and a pained gasp. John shot back down the stairs to see his father in an all out rage, his hands around his mum’s throat, her feet dangling off the ground. John raced forward and tried to shove him away from her, but was only backhanded. John stumbled and slammed into the wall, the wall with the security system box. He pressed all of the buttons, a loud wailing piercing the air and raced back over to his parents._

 

“Let her go!” He screamed ,trying to be heard over the alarm. He knew that the police and ambulance would be there any minute, that he only had to stall, but by the look in his father’s eyes, he knew that they would be too late. Looking around, John grabbed the nearby vase and broke it over his father’s head, getting the desired effect. HIs father let go of his mum and turned to face him, leaving his mother to sputter and gasp for air on the floor.

 

_“You.” HIs father spat. “Two kids and neither of them right. I blame your mother.” He hit John upside the head and threw him back._

_**“Duck!”** The voice in his mind yelled. And John ducked, missing another shot to the head._

_**“Grab wrist with right hand, punch arm with left!”** The voice demanded, and John obeyed, jumping up with enough force to break the arm and dislocate the shoulder. His father screamed in pain and swung wildly with his good arm._

_**“Duck!”** again the voice prevented him from getting his bell rung. John took a step back and breathed in deeply, his lungs beginning to scream at him._

 

_“Mum!” John looked around for his mother, but didn't see her. “MUM!”_

_**“LOOK OUT!”** The voice screamed, but was too late, John felt the glass cut his face, blood began to pour from his cheek and forehead, preventing him from seeing out of his right eye. John stumbled back and held a hand to his face._

_**“Get out of there!”** The voice demanded, and John was tempted to obey and just leave, but he couldn't leave his Mum to deal with this monster by herself.  _

_John’s father raised the purple glass shard and John realized that it was from the vase he smashed over his father’s head. The voice in John’s head screamed at him to  get up, move, something. To get out of there, to live. John was so caught up with the screaming in his head, he didn't notice the female screaming. John looked up at his Father, expecting to take another blow when his father froze and sputtered, dropping the glass, his arms falling to his sides. John watched as his Father collapsed to the ground while John’s mum stood above them, a bloody knife in hand. Red and Blue lights flashed through the window and open door, cops poured into the home, paramedics attending to John’s father, then to John and his mother._

 

John remembered the day clearly, though, he didn't know why his mind would bring up that particular memory moments before he’d die. He could feel the life draining from his body, about as quick as the hot desert sun was soaking up the blood from his shoulder. John had tended to everyone he could before falling out, and now, he was going to die without ever meeting his soulmate. He was going to leave him alone for the rest of his life. The voice in John’s head (it had gotten deeper as time went on) was beginning to annoy him, it kept telling him that he was going to be alright, that he was going to live. The only thing that kept him from telling the voice to sod off, was the panic and genuine terror.

 

‘I’m sorry William.’ John thought to himself, his vision darkening. He would have closed his eyes, but that took energy that he didn't have. Soon he saw nothing but black, and he breathed his last.

 

_**{*}** _

 

“John?” the voice echoed throughout the room. Wait, room? John groaned, his head spun and  he felt weak. John tried to  open his eyes, he wanted to see who was speaking, where he was, and why he was so sore.

 

“John. Open your eyes for me.” The voice said again, impatiently.  John opened his eyes, just a crack, before shutting them tightly, the light absolutely blinding.

 

“John, try again, but keep them open, the light won't hurt once your eyes are all the way open.” the voice said gently, but John could still hear the annoyance he was tried to hide.

 

John tried once more, forcing his eyes all the way open. The white lights burned, and John realized, the lights were in fact white.

 

“Get up John.” The voice said, accompanied with the steady sound of footfalls.  John gingery began to sit up, his head still spinning, his shoulder throbbing. John looked around, trying to find the source of the voice and footsteps. To his right, John spotted the silhouette of a man, his figure blurring with the bright background.

 

“Who. Who are you?” John asked, his voice soft and gravely, his throat suddenly feeling like he had swallowed sandpaper. The man stayed silent, but John could feel amusement drift through his mind, starling him.

 

“That’s the bond working.” The man said, his baritone voice echoing in his mind.

 

“Bond?” It John longer than he should have to realize who the man was.

 

“The bond soulmates share. The ability to know what the other is feeling. To have telepathic conversations.” The man explained. He was no longer just a blob, but a definite man. John could tell that he had pale skin, and the darkest of curls, and damn was he tall!

 

“I’ve waited so long to be able to talk with you.” The man continued, “Talking to and having a conversation are two completely different things.”

“You’re the voice.” John said, “The voice in my head.”

 

“Indeed.” He man said. John struggled to his feet, pain shot from his leg, nearly making him fall. John leaned on his good leg, keeping his weight off of his bad one.  The man stood in front of John and John felt self-conscious and small. This man was at least a foot taller than him.

 

“I’ve been watching you.” The man said, obviously not knowing how creepy that sounded. “I didn't want you to die.” The man suddenly sounded so small, and John felt for the man.  “I, I’m sorry. I should've known that you would’ve been ambushed. I should’ve told you to not go, I should’ve done something, I-”

 

John held a finger to his lips, silencing the man.

 

“If you really are the voice in him head, then you’ve done so much for me and mine.” John said, memories of everytime this man had help him flashed through his mind, the times too numerous to count. “You’ve done more than enough. And for that I thank you.” John said, a tear in his eye.

 

“Thank you, so much.” The man blushed at the praise, and turned, telling John to follow.

 

“Where are we going?” John asked, taking a step forward, pain keeping him from going farther.

 

“Some say heaven. Others, the afterlife. Personally, I don't know.” The man admitted, stopping to admire the light ahead.

 

“What’s your name?”

“Really John?” The man scoffed, “I wouldn’t have imagined that I would have to spell it out for you.”

 

“You didn’t answer me.” John countered. The man huffed out of annoyance and walked back over to John. He pulled up his coat’s sleeve, as well as the silky purple shirt to expose his wrist, and in turn, the name. John. John glared at the silver name in suspicion.

 

‘That's my name.’ John thought.

 

‘Of course it is.’ The man said, invading John’s mind once more. ‘Why else would you be here with me? Why else would I have been with you, your whole life.’ The man scoffed.

 

“No need to be so rude!” John exclaimed. The man groaned and rubbed his eyes.

“I’m John Watson.” John said, extending his hand.

 

“What is this? What are you doing?” The man asked annoyed.

 

“I’m introducing myself.”

 

“Obviously. But why?”

 

“Well, It seemed like we started getting off on the wrong foot.” John explained. “So, Hello, I’m John Watson.” 

 

The man chuckled and grasped John’s hand, and with his cockyest smile, introduced himself as William Sherlock Scott Holmes.

 

“But, call me Sherlock, please.” John smiled and felt warm and safe. Sherlock tugged on John’s hand, leading him to him, to the light. John could feel his pain ebbing away, his shoulder no longer throbbed and his throat felt refreshed; John took a step and his leg no longer hurt.

 

John intertwined his fingers with Sherlock’s and stood by his side, and for the first time in his life he didn't feel alone, for the first time he felt truly loved, for the first time, he felt. 


End file.
